Merry Misdirection
by Cackymn
Summary: See Title! ;-) *slash*


Written for Day 2 of the Tibbs Advent Calendar at Tibbs_Yuletide on Livejournal. Doesn't really need a summary. Just some Christmas funny, hope you like it!

Author: cackymn  
Fandom: NCIS  
Category: Slash, Humor  
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo  
Rating: PG  
Warnings/Spoilers: Nope  
Other Major Characters: Yep  
Disclaimer: Phooey, Not Mine  
_MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!_

* * *

**Merry Misdirection  
****************

"A little to the left - no, further - there, that looks good, real good."

"I don't think I can hold this position much longer."

"It's not gonna take much longer."

"Even if it's starting to hurt?"

"No pain, no gain, DiNozzo."

"Easy for you to say."

"Okay. Now get over here. I need help with this part."

"What have you got in mind?"

Tony looked at what Gibbs was doing.

"Oh my _GOD!_ This is going to be even better than last year!"

The older man smiled.

"That was kinda the idea, Tony."

* * *

"Son of a..." Tony's phone was ringing.

"It's Mc_Gee!"_ he hissed.

"Well, answer it, Skippy. It's not like he can see you."

"I don't know... I think he can."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "He knows, remember?"

"I don't care. It's still wrong."

"Just answer it."

Tony flipped open the offending object with a sigh.

"What!"

"Ah, Tony, I have the...um, search authorization you asked for earlier. It covers both residences in question."

"Then make copies and put one on my desk, McXerox!" Tony yelled, glaring on the outside chance McGee actually _could_ see him. "Sorry. Little busy here, Probie."

"Is, ah... is Agent Gibbs with you?"

Tony gaped at the phone, momentarily speechless. "Are you out of your mind? _Yes!"_

"Um, Tony, the Director wants to know when you'll be finished..."

"WHAT!"

The younger agent lowered his voice and spoke in a rush. "Just calm down Tony, okay? I'm doing the best I can. Vance knows you're out of the office and he's on his way down here. He's here, gotta go, bye."

Tony killed his phone and turned a horror-struck look on Gibbs.

"Vance!" he croaked. "What do we do?"

Gibbs shook his head at Tony's panic and then his eyes flashed and he smirked. "What we always do, Tony. Pick up the pace."

* * *

Being Gibbs and Tony's gatekeeper wasn't always easy, and it was a responsibility McGee took seriously. There were times it was a very important job and Christmastime was one of them.

If you need to keep a secret the first, best thing is to tell no one. If you need help keeping a secret, tell one other person if you must. There is no third best. Tony had presented this to Tim with an earnestness that made him feel proud of his role, though when he thought about it he was certain Tony had done the same with Abby and Palmer. Gibbs had likely gone to Ducky. All three had ceased making smart remarks and witty observations about the way Gibbs and Tony mooned at each other. A good strategy all in all, but Vance was another story.

_"Leon's a power player, Tim. Not ready to rock that p'ticular boat."_

_"Juss the one in the basement, huh, Tony?"_ They'd been a little drunk and giggly. _"Mwhat about Ziva?"_

_"Maybe when she stops taking everthing so person'lly."_

_"Y'mean if."_

_"Zackly."_

Now Tim was sober, face-to-face with the power-player, and Ziva was flouncing into the room with a stapler in one hand and a phone to her ear. All the hypotheticals were coming up at once. McGee looked at Director Vance, aiming for an unconcerned expression as sweat trickled down his sides and nervousness tightened his throat.

"Um, Director, can I help you?" He blinked and stifled a groan when his voice came out half an octave too high.

"I expect to hear from my lead agents before the end of the afternoon and I'm assuming you know where they are. Am I wrong, Agent McGee?"

"Wrong? Ah, no, Director."

"Well?"

"I believe they're executing a search warrant." McGee blushed but finished the sentence with a firm nod, grasping at the straws of his confidence as Vance regarded him coolly. Vance's eyes flicked to and from the freshly-extruded paper resting in Tim's printer.

Tim uttered a silent prayer and took the plunge. All he could see was the toothpick bobbing at the corner of Vance's lips and the enigmatic smile that didn't reach the Director's eyes.

"As a matter of fact I just spoke with Tony...um, Agent DiNozzo. He and Gibbs are on it now."_ Oh, God._

"I'm sure they are."

McGee felt the blood drain from his face.

"Relax, Agent McGee, I know all about it." The Director out-and-out grinned and it wasn't a reassuring sight.

"You do?"

"Yes, and if I thought they were doing something wrong I would have caught them in the act and put a stop to it."

Tim swayed in his chair. Did Vance think he could _do_ that? He knew the Director was pushy but hadn't considered he might be crazy. He desperately tried to think of something to say and looked around for a distraction. Ziva's back was arrow-straight and she studied her computer screen as if it held all of life's answers, that is, she was listening with every fiber of her being. McGee was about to break in and change the subject but Vance rolled right over him, somewhat uncharacteristically warming to the topic and clearly enjoying Tim's discomfort.

"Do you think I don't know what Gibbs and DiNozzo have been up to all these years? It's practically legendary. Hetty Lang is asking for pictures. Says her agents only _think_ they know how to have fun."

The toothpick switched sides and McGee's world rocked a little further on its axis.

"Think about it, Agent McGee. No one would suspect Gibbs unless you're talking about the skill level - but the rest of it? Each year more elaborate than the one before, intolerable noises, things going off in people's faces - that's got DiNozzo written all over it!"

Tim slipped into a daze. He swept a long glance across the room, all the while holding down the beginnings of an hysterical giggle as the only plausible explanation made itself known. He'd awoken on another planet this morning and had simply failed to notice. Ever practical, he started to wonder what form the Portal would take. Should he be looking for a library, a cave, a ball of light, a phone booth?

Such were his distress and fascination that if Ziva hadn't cleared her throat so loudly McGee might have missed what the Director said next.

"It's a big chair, Agent McGee, don't feel bad. I know it's DiNozzo and Gibbs who booby-trap the break-room every Christmas. Frankly I'm surprised everybody doesn't know, considering how long they've been doing it."

"Thank you, Director!" Tim said, completely on auto-pilot.

"No thanks necessary. Have one of them call me when you see them. Will you and Agent David be at the party?"

"I would not miss it!" Ziva finally piped up.

"Me either." Tim was breathing again. "Ah, Director Vance...?"

"Yes?"

"You won't..."

"Spoil it for them by saying something? Of course not. It's a Christmas tradition."

* * *

Vance left seeming satisfied and McGee's investigator's brain came back online along with the blood that returned to his head. There wasn't much doubt in his mind who had leaked the break-room 'secret' to Vance. It would be the reason the Director was so proud of it. Flush with confidence from his brush with disaster, Tim hoisted his phone, planted a smirk on his face, hit speed-dial and let it ring. When it was finally answered he didn't wait to be yelled at.

"You could have mentioned there was a backup plan."

"Wheels within wheels, McGee. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Boss."

Tim closed his phone politely, imagining that Gibbs had heard his smile through the line. He was happy for him, and for Tony. Happy for his friends, relieved and smug about Vance, and more than a little impressed with Ziva, who had not only stayed in the background for once but had somehow timed her one interjection perfectly, and who was standing in front of his desk.

"McGee, what is going on? You and I both know that the break-room was finished hours ago! Did you not just send me down the hall for Tony's stapler? Did you not ask me to let Abby know?"

Her eyes toyed with his for a moment and he detected no hostile suspicion in their depths, no envy in her voice, no derision in the quirk of her lips.

"I did at that, Ziva!" Tim held her gaze and let his grin grow wider.

She put a hip on his desk and crossed her arms, bouncing her curls in the direction of the exits where lights and ribbons beckoned and mistletoe hung above the doors.

"So tell me, where exactly _are_ Gibbs and Tony?"

"I don't _exactly_ know." He didn't. Gibbs' and Tony's homes had a combined total of about ten rooms.

"Well, whatever they are doing they have earned it," she proclaimed with a smile and an air of finality. "They work very hard and they look out for us all. What does it matter if today they are playing hockey?"

_And just when I thought it wasn't going to get any weirder_. Tim did an involuntary mental inventory. Masks, no. Sticks, unlikely. Kneepads...probably a good idea.

"Is that correct, McGee? That thing people do when they are supposed to be somewhere but they actually are not?"

"Hooky, Ziva, not hockey!"

"Hooky. Thank you. We will finish our work and we will hope they enjoy their afternoon. Perhaps they are exchanging gifts, yes?"

Tim grinned, stood, and began pulling papers from printers and otherwise straightening up the bullpen. "I think that's an excellent idea, Ziva. After all, you heard the Director - it's a Christmas tradition!"

* * *

"Tim says Merry Christmas."

"I'll be sure to thank him. By the way, that was impressive, Jethro."

"What?"

"Taking a phone call with my legs around your waist."

"Mmm Hmm. I know." Gibbs smiled and collected a kiss.

"No dire warnings?"

"Nope, it's handled. Wanna take this one slow?"

Tony shivered at those words, and at the love in the voice that said them. It was an especially delightful, christmassy shiver, what with the darkening wintry afternoon, the glow from the fireplace, the sharp piney aroma of the tree and the heat of the older man's body. He ran his hands along every part of Gibbs he could reach and answered him with a warm smile.

"Yes, I do," he said simply. "Where were we?"

"Where we're supposed to be," Gibbs breathed against him, and it was a gift beyond price.


End file.
